


My Hot Neighbor

by jb_andhismilk



Category: NCT (Band), SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Making Out, Oneshot, Summer AU, Weed, Xiao Jun mentioned, they smoke some weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 03:37:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18175349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jb_andhismilk/pseuds/jb_andhismilk
Summary: “Dude, you need to stop leaving your window open. What if some kidnapper breaks in and steals you?”Or Sicheng leaves his window open all summer and it’s making Minghao nervous.





	My Hot Neighbor

**Author's Note:**

> This is shit I threw together but I love Sicheng and I’ve been working to make a crossover for ages so I think this counts :P enjoy babes mwah mwah ilysm

“Doesn’t it ever, like, _bother_  you?” Minghao’s voice speaks up out of the blue. He sounds lazy and casual like his posture against the tree behind him, the only thing in Sicheng’s backyard that can successfully shield the two boys from the summer’s unforgiving sun. After listening to Sicheng complain that the two never went outside, Minghao had dragged his friend from the Dong family’s sofa to the Dong family’s manicured lawn, where they’re currently sitting with a single bottle of soju between them, purchased by their practically-new legal statuses attained at the beginning of the year. Sicheng feels strange about the change: at his home in China, people even younger than seventeen had had drinks before, but since moving to Korea he’d had to wait until nineteen to purchase drinks.

 

Sicheng scowls, tugs his long legs up against his chest to keep his ankles from burning. “What? The sun?” Sicheng guesses, peering his dark eyes up at the endless blue sky. Minghao makes a noise of disgust and gestures to Sicheng’s house.

 

“Your house looks _exactly_  like all of the others on this street. It’s infuriating.”

 

“I don’t see the problem,” replies Sicheng.

Minghao gestures to the house again, his face blank. “The inside of my house is original,” Sicheng adds, growing a bit defensive of his painfully plain home. Yes, it _does_  have the exact same structure and color scheme as the houses on either side, but why should that matter? His house is his where it counts.

 

Luckily, Minghao drops the subject in the next few seconds as someone emerges from the back door of the neighboring house. A thin man in white pants and an oversized striped button up steps into the yard next to Sicheng’s and heads straight for the garden hose attached to his home, a feature that Sicheng notices his own home does _not_  have, take that Minghao.

 

Minghao’s eyes follow the stranger as he bends down and fills a white watering can. Sicheng knows before his friend even opens his mouth that Minghao is about to say something embarrassing.

 

“Who’s that?” questions the black haired man in a voice low enough that the neighbor doesn’t hear. Sicheng’s eyes are on the neighbor as well; his tanned skin sticks out against his light shirt and even lighter dyed hair, large eyes focused on the knob he’s trying his best to turn.

 

“My neighbor, Yuta something. Mom says he’s from Japan, she talks to his parents when she takes the garbage to the curb,” Sicheng informs his friend casually. He doesn’t know much about Yuta, except that the guy’s hardly older than him and that he’s hot. Sicheng’s spotted Yuta chatting with his mother on the sidewalk before, seen the guy peering shyly at him from across their lawns, but they’ve never actually spoken.

 

Minghao hums. “He’s got a cute ass.”

 

“Minghao!” Sicheng hisses, his face flaming. His eyes dart over to Yuta, who’s now straightening up and heading for a small garden of vegetables waiting to be watered. It doesn’t seem that Yuta’s heard Minghao, thank god. “If you’re going to be embarrassing, do so in a language that my hot neighbor can’t understand!” he adds in Mandarin. Minghao is hardly phased.

 

“Be grateful Dejun wasn’t here. He would have been MUCH more embarrassing,” Minghao quips, using Mandarin to appease his friend. Sicheng doesn’t want to think about the shame inducing things Dejun would have said. He reminds himself not to let Dejun visit when Yuta is roaming out in the open lest he open himself up to a new kind of mortification. “You called him hot. Do you like him?”

 

“Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean I’m trying to sleep with him,” Sicheng mutters lowly. Now that they’ve switched from speaking in Korean to Mandarin, Yuta’s sent them a confused glance but is mostly trying to keep to himself, turning back to the plants and dousing them with the watering can. Minghao snorts the moment his back is turned.

 

“ _I_ totally would.”

 

“ _You_ totally have a boyfriend.”

 

“I do,” sighs Minghao wistfully. “Speaking of which, Junhui’s been messaging me nonstop since I got here.” Minghao pulls out his phone with a sigh, types a quick message. “Whore,” he mutters hopelessly. “I should probably get over to his house before he resorts to hentai again.” Sicheng squawks as Minghao awkwardly struggles to his feet.

 

“What? I thought we were having a Mario tournament tonight,” Sicheng says, feeling utterly betrayed by Minghao and his loyal boyfriend lifestyle. Minghao turns back to face Sicheng again, shrugging as if the situation can’t be helped.

 

“Sorry, man. Dom duty calls,” Minghao announces across the yard. He chooses that moment to switch their conversation back into Korean, much to Sicheng’s horror. Sicheng hears Yuta drop the watering can, but he can’t bring himself to tear his glare away from Minghao and check the damage. “I’ll drop by after I’ve sated Junhui’s libido.”

 

Sicheng’s face is on fire when Minghao rounds the corner of his house and disappears from sight. He’s so paralyzed with humiliation and anger that his expression doesn’t stir when he finally meets his neighbor’s eyes. Yuta takes one look at Sicheng and rushes back into his house, his cheeks pink.

 

 _The feeling is mutual_ , Sicheng thinks miserably as he takes a swig of soju.

 

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After the ‘Yuta has overheard Minghao’s dom talk’ incident, Sicheng decides to retreat to his bedroom for solitude and a lone round of Mario Kart to ease his embarrassment. It only takes a short hour for Sicheng to grow bored with the game and call Minghao.

 

“Hello?” Minghao sounds annoyed, but thankfully he doesn’t sound as if he’s in the midst of ramming Junhui into a mattress, so Sicheng takes this as a good sign.

 

“Hey. You done at Junhui’s yet?”

 

“We’ve only gone one round? You’re starting to sound more needy than my actual boyfriend.” As if to punctuate this point, Sicheng hears a high pitched whine in the background of Minghao’s end of the line.

 

“Hao, we need grape popsicles!” Wen Junhui’s voice cries. Minghao’s sigh follows right after.

 

“Just a second, Junnie,” calls Minghao away from the phone. “Listen, I’ll be over sometime after ten, once Junhui’s done being so _needy_!” he yells the last word away from the phone, and Sicheng hears Junhui let out an offended noise.

 

“My parents will be in bed by then,” Sicheng points out. “You’ll have to come in my window, I’ll leave it open.”

 

“Oh my god. I thought I told you not to do that anymore!” Minghao exclaims in exasperation. He’s expressed multiple times his unease about Sicheng’s open window during the summer, but Sicheng never closes it. He prefers the fresh air to a closed off room in warmer weather, and the sounds of the crickets outside at night help lull him to sleep. Minghao just thinks he’s crazy.

 

“Dude, you need to stop leaving your window open. What if some kidnapper breaks in and steals you?” Minghao sounds so distressed that Sicheng almost considers leaving the back door unlocked for him instead, but then he realizes that wouldn’t be any less dangerous.

 

“I’ve have my window open for three summers now, Minghao. No one has climbed in besides you and that stray cat from last summer,” Sicheng assures. Minghao makes another huffing sound.

 

“Whatever. I’ll be there around midnight.”

 

“Midnight?! You just said ten.”

 

“Yeah, well, I thought I wouldn’t be sneaking in at ten, but since I already have to I might as well get some more dick time in,” says Minghao logically. Sicheng grimaces.

 

“You’re disgusting. I’ll see you at midnight,” Sicheng says, eager to hang up before his friend says anything else about the unhealthy amount of sex he has in one day.

 

“Sicheng, I’m joking. We don’t have sex the entire time we’re together,” says Minghao with a laugh. Junhui’s triumphant, ‘I found the popsicles!’ breaks through the background. Minghao pauses. “But don’t call me again, just in case he is sucking my dick later.”

 

Sicheng assumes that Minghao must be getting his dick sucked, because at twelve thirty his friend still hasn’t shown up. Sicheng rolls onto his back on his bed and stares at the ceiling in exasperation. Minghao may be his best friend, but he can only handle being ditched for Junhui’s ass so many times. He reaches around on the duvet in search of his phone just as a ruckus draws his attention to the window. A thin, lanky body clad in a hoodie and white jeans throws himself over Sicheng’s windowsill and flops like a sack of potatoes onto the carpeted floor with a groan.

 

“What the fuck, man-“ Sicheng starts as he gets to his feet, annoyed, when he suddenly cuts off. The guy sits up, moonlight pouring from the window onto his handsome face so that Sicheng can see that the person on his floor is _not_  Minghao. It’s Sicheng’s hot neighbor, Yuta.

 

Yuta stares at him, eyes narrowed in confusion. He takes a second to register Sicheng staring at him in bewilderment, glancing behind him at the open window and then back to Sicheng. He pulls the hood off his sandy blond head as if to give himself more clarity.

 

“Hey, you’re my hot neighbor,” Yuta exclaims after a bout of silence, realization dawning in his big eyes. Sicheng resists the urge to correct him and say that Yuta is actually the hot neighbor among the two of them. Yuta suddenly glances around the room. “This.... isn’t my house, is it?” Sicheng shakes his head slowly, noticing the slightly dazed look on Yuta’s face. He frowns.

 

“Are you stoned?”

 

“Only a little,” Yuta replies casually. “You wanna smoke, too? I’ve got one left.” Yuta pulls a lighter and a bag from his pocket with a blunt inside. Sicheng opens his mouth to refuse; he doesn’t normally smoke, he’s never interacted with Yuta before, and this doesn’t seem like the most ideal of times to do either. But Minghao is probably eating popsicles or dick or both, and a hot guy is sitting on Sicheng’s floor offering him weed.

 

“Sure,” Sicheng’s voice says from someplace in his mind he has no control over. Yuta grins, looking soft like a puppy with his sandy hair and sparkling eyes. Sicheng drops down next to him as Yuta lights the joint and takes a drag. He passes it to Sicheng next.

 

They smoke for awhile until Sicheng starts to feel himself relax. He and Yuta sit side by side with their backs against the wall, the moonlight draped over their legs. Yuta takes a long drag and blows the smoke straight over his head.

 

“I’ve been trying to plan what to say to you, Sicheng,” Yuta announces after a few moments of silence. Sicheng hums in acknowledgment of the words so that Yuta will elaborate. He does. “I’ve seen you around, tried to get up the nerve to talk to you about something, anything. The weather, where you’re from, Beyoncé’s new album. Whatever.” Sicheng laughs.

 

“I’m more of a Nicki Minaj guy.”

 

“And your friend the dom? Is he team Beyoncé?”

 

“Do _not_ mention him. Fucking traitor left me for his boyfriend,” Sicheng kicks weakly at the trash can near his foot in hopes that the action will somehow reach Minghao, wherever he is at the moment. Yuta giggles, leaning against Sicheng’s bony shoulder. Sicheng leans back to support him. “Why did you want to talk to me?”

 

Yuta shrugs. “We’re both foreigners. I thought it would be nice to talk to someone I could relate to. All of my friends at college are Korean, they’ve lived here most of-if not all- their lives,” he replies quietly and Sicheng nods understandingly.

It had been hard for him too when he’d first moved to Korea. Kids at his school made fun of his accent and his struggles to pronounce certain words. It wasn’t until he’d moved to a more diverse neighborhood that Sicheng had found his friends who were all from China just like him. Sure, he still has close Korean friends, but Sicheng knows that without Minghao, Dejun or his other friends he wouldn’t have adjusted well to his new home.

 

“Plus my mom says you’re gay, so that’s another thing we’ve got in common,” Yuta adds and Sicheng jumps, surprised.

 

“What? How did she-“

 

“Our mothers talk a lot.” Sicheng isn’t sure why he’s surprised to hear that his mother’s spreading his sexuality to the neighbors, but he can only hope that the news doesn’t travel to other, more judgmental sections of town. “Does it bother you that I know?” Yuta asks, his face suddenly solemn as he studies Sicheng. “I’m sorry.”

 

“No, it isn’t that. I don’t care much who knows,” Sicheng replies. Yuta watches his expression carefully. “I’m a little relieved that you’re also......” Sicheng bites his lip and Yuta’s eyes light up.

 

“Why?”

 

“I.... I call you my hot neighbor, too. Just.... so you know.” Sicheng meets his eyes and something passes between them then, a feeling Sicheng can’t seem to explain in his mind. Yuta grows a tentative smile when Sicheng leans in close to him, the smell of the smoke from Yuta’s clothes filling his airway when he takes a deep breath.

 

Yuta kisses like he talks: hazy and languid like he has all the time in the world to spend on the floor with Sicheng. His fingers rub the back of Sicheng’s neck when Sicheng’s mouth falls open wider and he licks into Yuta’s mouth, humming softly. Sicheng’s hands are splayed across Yuta’s knees, body leaning closer to Yuta with an eagerness Sicheng didn’t know he had.

 

“You’re so hot,” Yuta groans when Sicheng hooks his hands under Yuta’s knees and pulls his legs so the other is seated in his lap. Yuta is so light and gentle, his hands around Sicheng’s neck as he noses along Sicheng’s collarbones.

 

“Why did you stop?” Sicheng asks, a little impatient now that Yuta’s fantastic mouth isn’t on his. Yuta giggles and nuzzles further against Sicheng’s chest, his fingers playing with Sicheng’s hair. “Come on. Are we gonna make out or not?”

 

“I want to spend all of my time on you,” Yuta mutters, his forehead against Sicheng’s heartbeat. Sicheng doesn’t understand.

 

“We hardly know each other. Don’t be so mushy,” Sicheng whines, although the complaint dies off as Yuta begins to pepper kisses along his neck and jawline.

 

“I know,” Yuta states between kisses, “So let me spend time with you. Get to know you.” Sicheng waits until the sentence is over to capture his lips again, kissing hungrily the way he’s been wanting to since Yuta stopped.

 

“If you’re asking me out, I accept,” says Sicheng breathlessly, his hands sliding up Yuta’s legs to hold his waist. He loses himself chasing Yuta’s lips with his own, the air around them hotter than the typical summer night and minds hazier than they were even a moment ago with the joint.

 

Sicheng kisses Yuta with thoughts of a summer of more, lazy naps in his bed and movie dates with Hao and Jun. Sweet kisses goodnight and a feverish touch for good morning. A whole summer, a whole lifetime, with someone he’s barely met. Yuta moans, kisses him a little longer before he pulls back and drops his head against Sicheng’s shoulder. “Do you normally intercut your make out sessions with bouts of cuddling?” Sicheng questions. Yuta holds him closer.

 

“I can’t help it. I’m affectionate when I’m high. And when I’m sober.” Sicheng groans. He isn’t sure how to feel about the possibility of being constantly clung to, but he imagines it can’t be much different than spending time with Minghao.

 

As if the devil himself had heard Sicheng’s thought, a foot suddenly steps into the room right next to them, Minghao slinking into the bedroom via the open window he usually opposes. He glances around for a moment, confused, before spotting his friend on the floor and the guy in his lap.

 

“Dude. What the FUCK did I say about leaving this window open?”


End file.
